


Growing Strong

by redcandle17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Family, Gen, Grandparents & Grandchildren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 01:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1409233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/pseuds/redcandle17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaery Tyrell grows up with the guidance of her grandmother, the Queen of Thorns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Strong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Poetry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetry/gifts).



Margaery’s life was filled with nothing but happiness and beauty. She was the youngest child and only daughter, and she was loved and cherished. One day, like any other day, she took her gatherings from the garden to show to her lord father. “My little princess,” he said fondly, caressing her cheek. A strange look appeared on his face, and he added quietly, “You _should_ be a princess. Why not?”

Her lady grandmother gave Father a sharp look. “Don’t be foolish, Mace.”

“There’s nothing foolish about it, Mother,” her father said. “Prince Joffrey will need a wife one day, as all men do, and why shouldn’t my Margaery be his princess?”

“The Baratheons are not the Targaryens, I’ll grant you,” Grandmother replied, “But I thought you loved our little sweetling.”

“Of course, I love her! That’s why I want the best for her.”

“The life of a royal consort is not one to be wished on any woman, least of all a daughter you profess to love. She will spend all her days surrounded by gossip and intrigue and danger in the guise of false friends.” 

Her father sighed. “You must not be so suspicious, Mother. It is a great thing to be queen.”

Her grandmother had that _look_ , the one she got when she was about to say the sort of thing that made people whisper she was the thorn among the roses. 

Margaery’s mother spoke up. “It may well be a moot point. Eddard Stark’s wife has just birthed a girl. Surely King Robert will want to wed his son to his friend’s daughter.”

Grandmother looked mollified. “Perhaps you are not so foolish, Alerie,” she said. “Eddard Stark has a daughter and Jon Arryn’s young wife may yet bear one, too. You think Robert would look to Highgarden for Joffrey’s bride instead of to the allies who helped win him his throne? I reckon if the thought ever occurs to him his brother Stannis would dissuade him soon enough. Stannis is not likely to have forgotten that siege you like to talk about.” 

Father refused to concede the matter. “Robert’s friendships may sour, Stark’s daughter may die in her crib or grow up to be ugly - many things could happen before Prince Joffrey is ready to be married.” He took the crown of golden roses Margaery had only just finished weaving and placed it atop her head. “There, sweetling. You look like a proper princess.”

 

Maester Lomys finished examining Willas and turned to Father with a tired look on his face. “My opinion remains unchanged, my lord. He may be able to walk one day with the aid of a cane, but there is too much damage for more than that. Willas will never be able to resume his training. He will never be a knight.”

“That bloody Dornish _snake_ ,” Father snarled. “He crippled my boy deliberately, I know it! There are no accidents between us and the Dornish!”

“Aye,” Grandmother said bitterly. “A poisoner has no honor. But do not think you are blameless, Mace. Willas had no business jousting with grown men. If you had not pushed him to compete in the tourney…”

“Mother!” Lady Alerie cried, “You are cruel and unfair to blame this on Mace.”

“I’m not your mother, Alerie, and my son needs to accept his share of the blame so he does not make the same mistakes with Garlan and Loras.” 

Only Margaery could see the tears shimmering in Willas’s eyes. He was almost a stranger to her, this brother who had spent half her young life squiring for another lord. But his letters home had always urged the others to give her hugs and kisses from him, so Margaery crawled onto the bed beside him and wrapped her arms around him best she could. 

That got the grown-ups’ attention, and they all looked at Willas sadly. Margaery knew instinctively that their sadness was making Willas feel worse. But if Maester Lomys, who was old and knew everything, and her father, the lord of Highgarden, couldn’t do anything to make Willas better, then neither could she. 

Grandmother sighed. “You could not have foreseen what the Viper would do,” she told Father grudgingly. “So he will not be a knight. But at least he has wits aplenty, don’t you, Willas?”

“Ye-yess, my lady,” Willas answered. 

Lady Olenna shuffled to the bed. “No need to be so formal with your poor old grandmother, my boy.” She leaned in to stroke Willas’s hair. “Instead of whacking at other boys with swords and sticks, you can work on developing your mind.” She stared pointedly at Father while she spoke to Willas. “You won’t be a renowned champion like Leo Longthorn but you can still be the wisest, most shrewd lord House Tyrell has ever had.” 

Father looked pained. All any boy in the Reach wanted was to be a knight. Even the sons of the washerwomen and pigkeepers dreamed of being knighted for some valorous deed. The singers sang songs about brave knights; they didn’t sing about men learned in history and mathematics. Willas would never have the greatness Father wanted for him. As young as Margaery was, even she knew this. But Father loved Willas, as he loved them all, and so Margaery was not surprised when he tried to smile and said, “He’ll make Old Jahaerys seem like a half-wit.” 

“Yes,” Mother agreed. “I’ll write to my father. The Hightower has more books than even the Citadel. He’ll send you books not even the Grand Maester has read. Would you like that, Willas?”

“I would, Mother.” Willas’s eyes were dry now. 

Later, when the grown-ups had left and it was only him and Margaery, he made a vow. “I’ll make them proud. If I have to read every book ever written, I will. I’ll learn everything about everything.” 

Margaery was eager to help her brother so she ran to her bed chamber and fetched back the thick volume of translated Valyrian tales she’d received for her last name day. She got under the covers with Willas and curled against him as he began reading. If he became sad again, she decided she would tickle him. That would make him feel better. 

 

Highgarden felt empty and alone. Margaery wandered the castle aimlessly. She missed Loras already, though it had only been a few hours since he’d ridden off to become a squire. She loved Willas and Garlan, but they were her big brothers while Loras might well have been her twin, for they were less than a full year apart in age. It would be months before she saw him again, maybe even years. 

She sat with her cousins for a while, but they were little girls and Margaery felt herself growing up more each day. Megga and Alla were changing their dolls’ clothes for the make-believe feast they were about to attend, while Elinor sorted through the basket of fine fabric scraps for material to sew her doll a new gown. Margaery couldn’t remember the last time she played with dolls.

An impulse seized her and she said, “You can have my dolls. I’m too old for dolls now.”

The girls’ eyes lit up. They all had many fine dolls, but Margaery had the grandest collection. “Really?!” Alla asked.

“Really,” Margaery promised.

Her cousins excitedly followed her back to her chambers, where she divided her dolls and all their things among them. Megga got the one that had been made to look like Margaery herself, and Margaery gave the nicest doll dress to Elinor, while Alla received a painted wooden pony just the right size for a doll to ride. It was only after the younger girls had left with their spoils that it occurred to Margaery that maybe she should have kept one or two of her old favorites for the daughters she’d have someday. 

It was almost time for luncheon with her grandmother, so Margaery headed out to the smaller rose garden. It was properly named the Lady’s Garden and it was meant to be the private domain of the lady of Highgarden, but Grandmother had never relinquished it to Mother. As she joined Lady Olenna at the stone table in the center of the garden, she found herself thinking of how unpleasant it must be for her mother as the good daughter of the Queen of Thorns. 

Grandmother always encouraged frank talk, especially at their private luncheons, so Margaery gave voice to her thoughts. “Would you wish a good mother for me such as you’ve been to Mother, Grandmother?”

“Oh-ho!” Grandmother said. “You think I’ve been bullying your mother again.”

“You can’t deny that poor Mother has only ever been the lady of the castle in name.”

“I should lie down and die so Alerie gets be in charge, is that it?” Lady Olenna looked quite disagreeable, and Margaery fully understood why the serving girls drew straws to decide which unlucky one was to wait on her. 

“No, of course not, Grandmother. What would this family do without you?” Margaery knew her grandmother liked to hear that. “But you planned Father’s wedding, and Aunt Janna’s, and Aunt Mina’s. Let Mother plan Garlan’s wedding, please.”

“I only offered a few suggestions,” Grandmother protested. “But have it your way then. I’ll let Alerie have her Myrish food and her Pentoshi singers.” 

“Thank you, Grandmother.”

They finished the meal in companionable silence. Margaery was stunned when Lady Olenna said, casually, “I would not have you suffer a domineering bitch for a good mother, you are right about that, sweetling. That is why I talked your father out of offering you as a handmaiden to Cersei Lannister.”

Margaery didn’t know her father had planned such a thing. She wouldn’t have minded. The royal court must be exciting, and she would have seen Loras often since Renly Baratheon divided his time between his brother’s court and Storm’s End. She waited patiently for Grandmother to explain her objections to Father’s plan. 

“You serving the queen would have set a bad beginning to your relationship with her if Mace succeeds in wedding you to one of her sons. She would become used to ordering you about and you would become used to obeying her. If you marry her son she will be your rival for power, not your mistress, and not your friend.” 

She could see that Grandmother was correct, yet such reasoning would not have occurred to Margaery, nor to her lord father. She smiled at her grandmother and squeezed her hand. “You must live forever, for we would be lost without you.”

 

Margaery knew that Father had invited Renly to Highgarden with an eye to arranging a marriage between them. Renly was the king’s brother, and young and handsome, and lord of Storm’s End in his own right. It was a fine match - or it would have been, were it not glaringly obvious that Renly had eyes only for Loras. 

When Margaery finally got her brother alone Loras did not deny it. Rather, he smiled so bright he looked positively radiant. “I love him,” he declared, “And he loves me.” 

Margaery was happy for him. The gods had been very kind to Loras. Though only just knighted, he showed great promise as a warrior and people were already calling him the Knight of Flowers, as if he was the only knight in the Reach. “He’ll need a wife, though, to bear him heirs. You don’t mind sharing with your sister, do you?”

“There’s no one else I would share him with.” Loras looked dreamy. “If he wedded you, then his children would be of my blood, too. I’d love them like they were my own. But, Margaery, Renly does not intend to wed you.”

“Oh?”

He crossed the room to the door and opened it to make sure there was no one outside who might overhear them. “Renly is trying to convince Robert to set aside Cersei Lannister. The king hates her and their marriage is a miserable farce. Renly wants to see his brother happy. He thinks if he can find a beautiful highborn maiden for Robert to fall in love with, he can convince Robert to pack Cersei off to the Silent Sisters and take a new queen. And you, my sister, are becoming famous for your beauty.” 

Loras was grinning at her, like he expected her to be pleased. Cersei Lannister had done her duty and borne King Robert two sons and a daughter; he had no grounds to divorce her. If the High Septon dissolved every unhappy marriage there would be a lot fewer married couples in Westeros. Margaery had no desire to marry Robert Baratheon. They said he’d been a maiden’s dream once, but now he was a fat, aging man infamous for whoring. When Margaery thought of being wed to such a man, who would surely claim his husbandly rights often, bile surged up in her throat and she wanted to vomit. 

“We shall see,” she told Loras.

Grandmother was unimpressed when Margaery related Renly’s scheme to her. “A fool. Why are the handsome ones always so foolish?” She shook her head. “Does he think Tywin Lannister will sit on his hands and let his daughter be cast aside?”

“I would much rather marry Renly than Robert,” Margaery confided. 

Her grandmother looked uncomfortable. “What they whisper about Renly and your brother…”

“Is true.” Margaery thought of the heat she’d felt the last time she and cousin Desmera played the kissing game, and how that heat had been lacking when she kissed a visiting singer. She wondered if the gods made mistakes and if that was why she and Loras had desires meant for the other sex. But that was a matter for septons to debate. What she was sure of was that Renly Baratheon was perfect for her and Loras both. 

Lady Olenna studied her closely for a moment, and Margaery felt her grandmother understood what she had left unspoken. Her next words seemed to confirm it. “A lady of your station is entitled to have many noble attendants about her, and it would be seen as an honor for any of our bannermen’s daughters to become one of your ladies.” 

Margaery took that to mean she could have a lover and to others it would only seem like a normal friendship between ladies. “Thank you, Grandmother.” 

Grandmother waved away her thanks and shouted for Butterbumps to come entertain them. “I’ll talk to your father in case Renly decides to rope him into this plot of his. I hope even my foolish son knows better than to provoke Tywin Lannister, but I shan’t leave it to chance.”

The next day, when Renly presented a painter to her and begged for a portrait so that he could carry it with him and bask in her beauty always, Margaery agreed with a smile. She knew the portrait was meant for King Robert’s eyes, but she wasn’t concerned, not with Grandmother on her side. 

 

Renly Baratheon seemed rather exhilarated for a man mourning his brother. He greeted her with a huge smile. “You are lovelier than ever, my lady. We will talk once you’ve spoken with your lord father.”

Loras was even wilder with excitement. He seized Margaery and squeezed her in a fierce hug. “We are going to be so happy, the three of us. We’re going to become legends. They’ll sing about us for thousands of years to come.” 

Margaery laughed and smiled at them both, but she felt rather unsettled. When Loras and Renly had come riding up to Highgarden in a great hurry, so soon after the raven announcing the death of King Robert, Margaery had suspected that Renly wanted the support of House Tyrell for some plot. She’d assumed he intended to fight the Lannisters for custody of King Joffrey and make himself his nephew’s regent, but what Father told her was much worse.

“I cannot be a queen when Renly is not a king. King Robert left two sons, and a brother older than Renly. By what right does Renly name himself king?”

Father’s smile faded. He seemed disappointed his joyous news had not made her happy. “By the same right Aegon the Conqueror called himself king, daughter.”

“Aegon had dragons, Father.”

“And Renly will have the combined strength of his stormlands and our Reach. The Starks and Tullys are already at war with the Lannisters. The lions can’t fight off the whole realm. We’ll seize King’s Landing with ease and Renly shall sit the Iron Throne with you as his queen.” Father cupped her face. “You were born to be a queen, Margaery,” he said earnestly. 

“What of Lord Stannis? He does not seem like a man who will simply accept his fate.”

Lord Mace sighed. “You sound like your grandmother. I love my mother, but it is not good for a young girl like you to spend so much time with a sour old woman.” He shook his head. “Dragonstone does not have enough men to challenge us. Stannis might try to fight but we’ll put him down easily.” 

_We_ , he said, and _us_. His mind was already made up. Margaery knew it had ever bothered him that House Tyrell came from far humbler beginnings than the other great families. Those wretched Florents liked to remind everyone that Harlen Tyrell had only been steward before Aegon burned the Gardener king and his sons. Mace would not pass up the opportunity to wed his daughter to a king and to one day become the grandfather of kings. 

“As you say, Father.” Margaery kissed his cheek. 

His smile returned. “You’ll have a wedding and coronation like the realm’s never seen,” he promised. “No expense will be spared.”

Renly and Loras were waiting outside her father’s solar but Margaery did not stop to talk. 

“I’ll see you at dinner,” she said, hurrying past them. 

She needed her grandmother’s counsel. Her father was lord of Highgarden and he had set the course, but it would be up to her and Grandmother to make sure House Tyrell prevailed.


End file.
